


Day 2: Angst

by GemmaRose



Series: Mattiro Week [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drider Matt Holt, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: There are things Matt never thought himself capable of, but video doesn't lie.





	Day 2: Angst

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to you. You know who you are, you filthy sinners.

Matt arranged his legs, then arranged them again, the clack of chitin on metal still alien in his ears. His head ached, and every second he stood in this unfamiliar room he grew more anxious about what was going to be done to him this time, but despite that he was still relieved. The massive, bulbous spider abdomen the druids had given him felt light again; no longer so swollen and heavy with eggs it dragged on the floor behind him. He shuddered at a hazy memory of galran hands poking and prodding at him like he was an animal in a poorly managed zoo, and pulled himself back to the present. He had to assess his situation.

He wasn’t in his cell, which was good. He wasn’t in the room where the druids did their tests, which was also good. He didn’t know why he wasn’t in either of those rooms, which was bad. He didn’t feel sick and delirious with lust anymore, which was really good, but he couldn’t remember anything concrete after his breakfast yesterday, which was _really_ bad. God, how had his life even gotten to the point where being half spider wasn’t even something to take stock of anymore?

He checked around the room, finding where the cameras and microphones were hidden, and once he got bored of pulling faces at the cameras he started inspecting the rest of the room. There were four pairs of metal poles sticking up out of the floor at varying heights, with a fifth pole slightly further away. He knelt to run his fingers over the solo one, and felt the tell-tale texture that meant it could energize to form one of those restraining cords of pink-purple light. So, restraints of some kind, but not for him. Was he going to be given a cellmate so dangerous they had to be thoroughly restrained at all times? And in what looked like an uncomfortable position, too.

Shuffling over, he felt for energizing points on the other poles. As he found them, he started to piece together a picture in his mind. Whoever was bound here would have their face held near the floor, legs bound in a kneeling position that left their torso sloping towards the ground and their ass... their ass would be just about level with the bottom of his spider abdomen. A sinking feeling filled him, and he skittered back from the poles with his hands clutched to his chest. He hadn’t thought about it before, too relieved to be free of the distracting weight in his abdomen to wonder what had happened or why, but now...

A screen flickered to life on the wall to his left, and Matt turned to see himself. He waved his hand, then looked towards where the camera was hidden. There had to be a point to this. In his experience, the galra didn’t do anything without reason. The video froze, then jittered, then started reversing, speeding up as it went until Matt couldn’t see what was happening anymore. It stopped abruptly, and Matt drew a sharp breath. On the recording, the poles weren’t empty and inactive. A figure clad in nothing but a ragged prisoner shirt knelt in them, hands cuffed together in front of his face. A face that Matt would have to be blind not to recognize.

“Taka.” he breathed, the sinking feeling solidifying into a ball of lead in his gut. His racing mind had no trouble putting the pieces together, filling in the blank spot in his memory of yesterday with an inescapable truth. He couldn’t breathe as the door on screen opened and he watched himself stumble in, moving as if drunk. Drugged. He’d been drugged and locked in here and-

“Matt?” Takashi’s voice shook on the recording, striking through Matt’s heart like a spear. “Oh, god, what did they do to you?”

The Matt onscreen showed no recognition, making only an inhuman noise in response and shambling towards Takashi, who kept talking.

“Matt? Hey, babe, it’s me. It’s Takashi.” he said, managing to sound calm even as he shuddered at Matt’s touch.

“Ta-ka.” the Matt in the recording slurred as he circled around his boyfriend, a strange chirr in his voice that lent it an alien quality.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Takashi smiled.

“Mine.” onscreen Matt hissed, and Takashi’s eyes widened as hands latched onto his hips. Matt wanted to look away, but it was like his eyes were glued to the screen. Takashi screamed, an unmistakable sound of pain, and Matt choked on a sob. The video sped up after that, and Matt was almost grateful. Takashi’s initial scream echoed in his ears with every pained expression, and Matt sank to the floor in a jumble of limbs as it just kept going.

Only when it was finally over could Matt bring himself to cover his eyes, curling in on himself and drawing in short, ragged breaths. He couldn’t remember it, any of it, but the proof was undeniable. When guards came to move him back to his cell, he went without a fight. If he really was as monstrous inside as outside, then this was where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> There was supposed to be a follow-up scene to this, but I just couldn't write any more.


End file.
